


Language of Fools

by quiesce



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-22
Updated: 2009-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-04 06:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiesce/pseuds/quiesce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan has a bad day.  Simon helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Language of Fools

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=ignazwisdom)[**ignazwisdom**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=ignazwisdom) who then betaed because she is awesome and I apparently make people work for their fic. And *hearts* to [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/llaras/profile)[**llaras**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/llaras/) for betaing too and helping in general.

Ryan glared at the clock. Time failed to move backward in response to his silent demand. It didn't even stop moving forward. The minute ticked over and the alarm started to sound. Ryan slammed his hand down on the snooze button before the second beep had the chance to finish. He glared at the clock.    Nine minutes later, the scene played itself out again. And again nine minutes after that. Then he turned off the alarm completely and picked up the phone to call in sick.

"Sick? You're never sick."

"Today I am."

The voice on the other end switched from surprise to concern. "How bad? Should we send someone over? Do you need someone to take you to a hospital? Are you contagious? How long do you think you'll be out? Ellen can handle today's show but we should find a sub if you're gonna be off for a while."

"I'm fine, don't send anyone. I'll be in tomorrow."

"How do you know you'll be better tomorr—"

"I will be," Ryan said firmly. "I'm just not coming in today." He hung up the phone and rolled over in bed.

Thirty minutes later, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Ellen said you're depressed."

"Good morning, Ryan."

"Good morning, Ryan," Simon parroted back. "Ellen said you sounded depressed."

"I haven't talked to Ellen."

"Okay, whoever you talked to told Ellen you sounded depressed and Ellen just emailed me."

"Okay."

"So?"

"I'm sick."

"Headache? Fever? Flu?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I'm just not getting out of bed today. That's allowed. People do that."

"_You_ don't."

"Today I do."

Simon stayed silent for several long seconds. "Do you want me to come over?"

"You didn't tell me you're here."

"I'm not there."

"But—"

"I'm saying if you need me to come over, I can sort out things here and get on the next flight."

"Don't you have stuff to do?"

"Of course I have stuff to do. It'd be a nightmare to cancel and reschedule the rest of the week last minute, and I'm not in the mood for jetlag right now, but it's not completely impossible."

Ryan didn't answer. He'd wanted one day completely people-free, but maybe Simon didn't count as people today. And it'd been a while since he'd seen him.

"Ryan," Simon said slowly. "Should someone be there now? Should I ring someone in town to come over and stay with you?"

"Wait, what?" Ryan stopped contemplating a visit from Simon and realized what he was asking. "No, I'm fine, really. Just taking a break."

"You're fine?"

"Completely," Ryan confirmed.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Just... everything. Nothing. I dunno. People, the state of the world, the state of politics, the state of _L.A._ politics, having to pretend that there's nothing in the world I'd would rather discuss than Twilight or Speidi's greatest hits."

"So, the usual?"

"Yep. So I'm taking a break."

"But you're fine."

"Basically."

"Good. Then get your sorry arse out of bed and go to work."

Ryan rolled his eyes. Answering the phone had been a mistake. He glanced over at his old nemesis, the clock. "Too late. I can't make it in on time even if I wanted to."

"Then be a few minutes late."

"But—"

"Stop pouting. You're not pretty when you pout."

Ryan half-grinned in spite of himself. "That's not what you've said before."

"It's different in person. In person I can kiss you and then make fun of you when you try valiantly to remain pouting. Over the phone, it's not pretty."

"I don't like you."

"So you've told me frequently. Now get out of bed or I'm cutting you off."

"You're on another continent. I'm effectively cut off right now."

"Out," Simon repeated firmly.

Ryan sighed.

"I'm calling the station and telling them you're on your way. Don't make a liar out of me."

"Fine. Wait, don't call. That's ridiculous. You're not my mother."

"I can ring her and tell her her son's moping about in bed."

"I really don't like you. Okay, I'm up. I'm walking to the bathroom. Hear the water running? I'm up."

"And?" Simon prompted.

"And I'll call work and say I'm on my way."

"Good boy."

"Hate you."

"Ring me when you get in tonight."

"Will do."

 

****

 

Ryan had been on air for just over an hour when the first e-mail came.

_If any of these show up on the internet, telly, or are even mentioned on air, then you really ARE cut off. –S_

Ryan had enough experience with Simon to know that opening attachments while he was live was a bad idea. He waited until they had a couple back-to-back songs cued up before picking up his BlackBerry again.

Simon had sent five pictures of himself -- one of him pouting to a ridiculously exaggerated extent; three with silly faces, tongue out, eyes crossed; and the last was of Simon doing that stupid heart thing that Danny used to do. Ryan laughed out loud.

"Lemme see," Ellen said, reaching for the BlackBerry.

Ryan pulled it away from her. "No can do. There's a chance that if you see, I might not get sex."

Ryan e-mailed Simon back when Ellen read The Sleaze.

_thanks for the blackmail material. send more. i could become top earner after all_

Simon did. Throughout the rest of his workday, Ryan was inundated with pictures from Simon, mostly new ones of Simon doing something goofy, plus a few old ones that had been on the show: the Speedo one, the ones where they'd drawn a bonnet on him and given him a pacifier.

Ryan called later that evening.

"Someone's been sending me the weirdest spam today."

"How are you doing?" Simon asked.

"Good. Okay. Better."

"Good."

"Thanks."

"Did you show anyone? Ellen? She'd never let me hear the end of it."

"Nope, nobody. I'm not risking sex."

"How's next week sound?"

"For what?"

"Sex. This week's no good, but I was able to move things around next week. And I set up a couple meetings while I'm over so I have an excuse, but otherwise I'm all yours for three days."

Ryan was taken aback. "You don't have to. I mean, I was having an off day, but I really am okay."

"Who's talking about your needs? What if I just desperately need a good fuck?"

Ryan laughed. "Well, that's perfectly understandable."

"So if you know anyone—"

"I'll get right on a search for you."

"In the meantime..."

"Hmm?"

"I'm already in bed. You should do the same and tell me about it in great detail."

Ryan complied.


End file.
